Chapter 606 Sweet Savage

Chandler woke up as the effects of the medicine wore off. He rubbed his temples and looked at Meryl beside him, unable to resist leaning down and kissing her on the cheek.

Since Meryl joined the orchestra, her time at home had been scarce, barely a few days every month on weekends. Thinking about this, Chandler couldn’t help but pull her into his arms tightly.

Meryl, half-awake, felt herself being pulled into a warm embrace and opened her eyes groggily. The next second, Chandler’s lips were on hers.

“Mm…”

She was a bit dazed; her first thought was, “That medicine was that potent, huh?”

“Chandler, calm down! Why don’t you go take a shower again!” she said.

Chandler chuckled and let her go. His eyes rested on Meryl’s red lips. “Meryl, I’m perfectly normal, I just want to kiss you.”

Meryl’s cheeks turned beet red. She awkwardly wrapped herself in the blanket and tried to hide.

“What are you doing? I just woke up,” she said lazily, her voice soft with sleepiness.

Chandler found Meryl incredibly adorable at this moment. He cupped her face with both hands, leaned in, and intertwined their breaths.

“Meryl, when will you be able to come home every day?”

Now that Meryl was five months pregnant, her belly would be getting bigger soon. Even playing the cello might become inconvenient.

“Let’s talk about it after I finish this composition contest,” she said.

Harvey insisted she participate, and Meryl had recently gotten into a groove with composing. Her hands instinctively went to her belly. By the time the contest was over, she’d be six months pregnant, so she should be more careful.

Suddenly feeling a twinge in her belly, Meryl sat up abruptly.

“Chandler! The baby just kicked me in the belly!”

Chandler paused, then put his ear against her belly.

“Let me listen.”

Seeing Chandler actually press his ear to her stomach, Meryl couldn’t help but feel amused.

“He can’t talk now, what can you hear?”

“I hear your stomach grumbling. Are you hungry? I’ll prepare breakfast for you.”

Meryl was speechless. She awkwardly wrapped herself in the blanket, and Chandler tenderly tapped her nose before getting out of bed.

It just so happened to be the weekend, and Meryl had nothing to do at home. She casually uploaded the song she composed a couple of days ago to Twitter.

Meryl didn’t use Twitter much; she only had a few dozen followers, so the tweet posted unsurprisingly received no comments. But she didn’t mind; it was just a record for her.

She repeatedly played the music, liking the melody. Listening to it, she felt a burst of fresh inspiration. Meryl then jotted it down.

At this moment, the renowned cellist Casey was having coffee with his mentor, Harvey. When Harvey mentioned recently taking on a new disciple, Casey became interested.

Harvey never took on disciples, so Casey was very curious about this little junior of his. “What’s so special about her?”

Harvey proudly lifted his head. “She… progresses rapidly, very talented, much better than you back then.”

“Really? Are you pulling my leg, old man?”

Casey was always cheeky with Harvey, who didn’t mind.

“Believe it or not! She not only plays the cello well, but her composing is also very talented. I think she’ll be more famous than you in the future!”

Casey immediately said, “Really? Do you have her Twitter? I need to check it out.”

Every member of the orchestra had a Twitter account, even Meryl, whose account was set up at Harvey’s insistence.

Harvey took a small sip of his coffee. “Go ahead and search for it. I think it’s called ‘Sweet Savage.’”

Casey was stunned. “That’s quite a bold name for a girl.”

“It’s just an online alias! You youngsters love to get abstract!”

In the meantime, Casey had already found “Sweet Savage.” He immediately noticed a piece uploaded by the account just a few hours ago. It was a short synthesized melody that far exceeded his expectations when he clicked play.

As it was played through his phone’s speakers, Harvey also heard it and couldn’t help but boast.

“What do you think? Isn’t she a lot better than you were back then? She never touched composition before, and all I did was train her for half a month.”

Casey muttered, “It’s just so-so, not quite at my level.”

His fingers, however, couldn’t resist hitting the retweet button and adding a comment: [This is a student of my teacher. / thumbs up]

As a cellist, Casey had held a concert at Viennie’s Golden Hall at a young age, boasting millions of followers on Twitter and tens of millions across all platforms. When he played the cello, his charisma was undeniable. Fans often described Casey as an angel who had fallen to the earth, destined for this path.

[When Casey plays the cello, even the dead would sit up and applaud!]

[Casey’s cello playing is second to none. My eighty-year-old grandpa, who’s been bedridden, could walk again after listening!]

[Can you believe it? My hen, which never laid eggs, laid three in a row after hearing Casey!]

[Casey’s touch is unfathomable!]

Fans revered Casey as a genius cellist. Yet he remained enigmatic, rarely sharing his personal life. Even his Twitter posts were related to performances or music.

So when this seemingly rigid, aloof Casey suddenly retweeted someone’s post and announced her as his junior fellow apprentice, the impact was seismic! Fans and onlookers alike, driven by curiosity, swarmed over.

They expected Casey’s junior fellow apprentice to be at least a minor influencer with hundreds of thousands of followers, looking to ride Casey’s wave to stardom. But upon seeing her account with a mere dozen followers, they were dumbfounded.

This account was minuscule, far from the profile of an influencer looking to piggyback on Casey’s fame. The username itself was abstract. In an instant, a deluge of people flooded “Sweet Savage’s” Twitter, catapulting the ID into trending status.

Meanwhile, Meryl, enjoying lunch at home, was oblivious to her sudden fame. With her Twitter set to silent mode, she remained unaware of her follower count skyrocketing from a dozen to over 200 thousand in just a few hours, nor did she know Casey had retweeted her post.

Lydia left in a mysterious manner, sitting down at a café. She faced another woman. To Lydia’s shock, as soon as she sat down, the woman across from her splashed a cup of coffee all over her face!

Rachel glared at Lydia, as if wanting to tear her apart.

“It’s all your bad advice!”

Without Lydia’s encouragement, she wouldn’t have taken that drastic step, nor would she have lost her innocence overnight, left with no place to seek justice, forced to swallow her humiliation.

Lydia’s face was covered in coffee stains, the dark brown liquid dripping onto her clothes, her expression visibly souring. She grabbed a cup from the table without hesitation and splashed it back at Rachel’s face.

“What do you think you are? The Morgan family is long gone. You’re just a dependent of Chandler, never favored by Chandler, worthless. At least I’m Dalton’s wife, do you think you can just lay a hand on me?”